


but you gotta put in work work work

by Anonymous



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: But I'm not funny, M/M, Slice of Life, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, takes place after the war, the title is a joke
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-05
Updated: 2018-12-05
Packaged: 2019-09-07 14:57:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,141
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16856122
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Keith knows exactly what he’ll find when he steps out of the shower and into their bedroom - Shiro sitting cross-legged on their king bed, tablet in hand and papers surrounding him like a small but menacing fortification.An organized mess, or so he says. He doesn’t look up when Keith approaches, but he does present his cheek to be kissed with an upward tilt that is equal parts imperious and absentminded. Keith snorts softly before blowing a raspberry on it.





	but you gotta put in work work work

**Author's Note:**

> This is just SAP.  
> Apologies for any mistakes.

Admittedly, Keith thinking about Shiro in the shower is far from an unusual occurrence. What is unusual is Keith thinking about the state of Shiro’s office in the shower. 

Shiro’s office in the Garrison is meticulously ordered, as befitting an officer of his stature. There isn’t a paper out of place on his unnaturally neat desk. Keith would know, what with the amount of times he’s been bent over that desk. 

He smirks as he thinks about _that_ particular view, but softens when he remembers the potted cactus to the right of about-to-be-fucked-into-next-week-Keith, which Shiro is always careful to put away first.

The cactus had been a gift from Keith. _“To remind you of me,”_ he had said with a wry smile. _“If you’re referring to the fact that cacti have to adopt a prickly exterior to protect themselves, bloom in harsh environments, and have saved many people’s lives, then yes, it will remind me of you,”_ Shiro had replied. He had been all righteously arched eyebrows and devastating earnestness, as was par for the course in matters concerning Keith’s self-perception. It would be cloying if it weren’t _Shiro_. All Keith could do was hide his flaming face in Shiro’s shoulder and mutter _“A succulent? As a metaphor for me? It’s more likely than you think,”_ but he had patted Shiro’s butt nonsensically and conceded to him a pleased, if embarrassed, smile. 

Keith’s mind jumps from the cactus to the framed picture next to the cactus. 

It had been taken towards the tail end of their wedding. Shiro’s gaze as he stares into the camera holds a telltale glisten though he is captured mid-laughter, and Keith’s eyes on him are alight with wonder, his smile fierce. He remembers being in a giddy state of half-disbelief, feeling as though he could fly away if not for the tether of their hands clasped so tight and the assured coolness of Shiro’s wedding ring that _he_ put there - but then he’d look at Shiro and feel so _serene_ \- 

And _no no no_ , Keith won’t go down that road because he’d been working up to state of justified indignation. The point is, the state of Shiro’s office at the Garrison is pristine and a stark contrast to the way he works at home. At least, the way he had been working at home for the past week. And contrary to unkind popular belief, Keith isn’t far from a neat freak. 

Keith knows exactly what he’ll find when he steps out of the shower and into their bedroom - Shiro sitting cross-legged on their king bed, tablet in hand and papers surrounding him like a small but menacing fortification. _An organized mess_ , or so he says. He doesn’t look up when Keith approaches, but he does present his cheek to be kissed with an upward tilt that is equal parts imperious and absentminded. Keith snorts softly before blowing a raspberry on it. Shiro’s only answer is a dull-eyed stare, though his eyebrows twitch in reproach. He’s wearing the thick-rimmed glasses he’d only recently accepted the need for, and if Keith’s shower-driven reminiscing hadn’t softened him up enough, he is now well and truly disarmed. So, Keith settles in to sleep against the backdrop of Shiro’s steady breathing and the occasional scritch of his pen.

Except he can’t quite relax with the way Shiro keeps glancing down at him. He quirks an eyebrow at him and Shiro promptly dislodges at least five papers in order to straddle Keith’s waist, and moves to kiss him. Keith’s laughter, loose and unbidden in a way it hadn’t been for years, halts Shiro’s plan and he leans his weight on his elbows to watch, his own lips rising in response. Keith only quiets down when he notices the almost awed look in Shiro’s eyes. 

“Thank you,” he says, trying for portentous but only managing laughter-ridden. “For coming all the way down here – mmph!”

Shiro’s initial plan is a go, and the wet heat of his mouth has Keith melting against the sheets, until he has to come up for air. 

“You smell like green apples,” he offers by way of explanation. 

“You’re hungry?” Keith guesses. 

“No, I mean you smell like my shampoo.”

“Oh.” Keith is still a bit dazed, basking in the sunshine of Shiro’s smile. “I’ve been smelling like your shampoo for, uh, quite some time now.”

“Guess I’m still not used to it,” he shrugs and pauses delicately, “Being married means I get to be weird and sniff your hair without any shame.” And he proceeds to do just that to the accompaniment of Keith’s convulsive laughter. 

Shiro’s mood turns apologetic as he sits upright to gather his scattered papers. “I’m sorry love, I just got used to working on the bed, it won’t happen again. My workload will go back to normal after the conference next week - but I’m done for today! And there are no meetings tomorrow morning, so…” 

“Thanks, but it’s important work, it’s okay,” and really, it _is_ okay. Keith’s desire for order aside, their bed is certainly big enough. It’s just that he’s _missed_ Shiro so much. Shiro’s only had this deluge of work for about a week now, but Keith had to spend the last month on a different planet, helping the Blade to quell a pocket of rebels. And the month before that, he’d been away helping to train the new Blades. He hates that their jobs can still make them feel like mere parallel lines even after the war. But then again, Keith remembers missing Shiro like a wildfire reaches for the sky, not once but twice. So, it’s hard, but the hardship eases when Keith tells himself that missing Shiro the way he does now is infinitely better than the way he’d missed him when he’d been presumed dead. 

“Anyway,” Keith continues. “I treasure the knowledge of all your little flaws.” He’d meant the comment to be tongue-in-cheek, but his sleep-addled voice cuts through all of that to land softly on a place of honesty that still makes Keith wince a little bit inside. 

Shiro takes pity on him. “Is that your way of calling me a slob?”

“Kind of. Besides, I’m sure you’ll find a way to make it up to me. Maybe on your office desk.”

“To spite my work?”

“Obviously,” Keith laughs and sleepily kisses the nearest patch of Shiro’s skin he can find, which happens to be his elbow. Heady with the warmth of Shiro right beside him, he says, “Y’know…You’re a great person to think about in the shower for a lot of different reasons…I appreciate that about you.”

“Thanks,” Shiro chuckles. “The feeling is mutual.”

Shiro’s thumb tracing his brow is heavy and calming, and Keith falls asleep peaceful in the knowledge that he’d wake up next to Shiro in the morning.

**Author's Note:**

> The title is taken from Fifth Harmony's 'Work from Home.'  
> Thank you for reading!


End file.
